


The White Room

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Explicit Sexual Content, Love/Hate, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-01
Updated: 2007-02-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 10:36:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10785117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: For some folks the war never ends.





	The White Room

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Written as a drabble challenge, the title also refers to a Swamp Thing Comic book Story from the 80's  


* * *

Draco shivered.

The comfortable warmth of this place unnerved him.

The light, golden and warm had banished his shadow leaving him feeling more than naked.

The walls matching his pallid naked complexion, only his eyes offering contrast. 

The absence of ropes or chains bound him to the centre of the room.

What had she done to him?

“Are you ready Dragon?”

“I’m always ready.” He countered.

“This is no time for bravado Dragon.”

“It’s not bravado.”

Her laughter filled the room causing ripples of copper and auburn to pulse through the walls.

Blood to pulse through his veins.

“Not hard is it?” she asked.

“It’s hard.” He snarled, and it was, an angry throbbing red member.

Waiting.

Then there is a crack, a puff of air in his face, his sight is stolen as she sinks onto his length.

He falls and she falls with him, his buttocks bruising against the floor, but his head grasped against her breasts, smothered.

He bucks against her, against her heat, urging himself to climax, to finish this time.

But with another crack she is gone, and his seed emerges sadly invisible against the white floor and his pale flesh.

“Next time Dragon.”

“Next time” he responds his sharp eyes spotting the anomaly in his prison.

A mistake, or a message?

A single copper strand.

“Next time Ginevra.”


End file.
